I am doing teacher training to teach college and secondary school students. Before this, I went to University and earned a degree in Psychology.

When I start my teacher training I make quite a lot of friends on the course, however, there is a very close-knit group on the program that is headed by a rude woman who feels they know better at everything and like to diminish other people’s teaching subjects.

Today we moved on to behaviourism and education, My lecturer values my opinion on the subject and asks me from time to time in class if I wanted to elaborate. This irks the rude woman.

Rude Woman: “Isn’t behaviourism and psychology all just common sense?”

Me: “No, it isn’t. It opens up a lot of different areas and research paths.”

Rude Woman: *Laughing* “No, it’s just common sense.”

I give up because you argue with stupid.

A few weeks pass and we have to give a presentation in groups about different subjects we have covered so far. The rude woman and her group begin to present. She is presenting her portion of the presentation, which happens to be biopsychology and education, an area that is one of my specialties. She finishes her presentation with:

Rude Woman: “But it’s all just common sense anyway, isn’t it?”

She looks directly at me.

Rather than back down, I decide to ask her a question about her section of the presentation.

Rude Woman: “I don’t know, I don’t have my notes with me.”

Me: “But I thought it was common sense?”

Rude Woman: *Pissed off* “Why don’t you get up and present it?”

So I did, I got up, and presented her slides in detail and said thank you, and sat down. My lecturer was totally on board with this and was amused herself.

And that’s the last time the rude woman questioned anyone else’s subject.

I work in a grocery store overseeing the self-serve machines. I have to clean every machine between customers, something that’s generally pretty easy to do given how quiet things are. As I’m cleaning, a sweet-looking older American lady beckons me over.

Customer: “Excuse me. I’m sorry about this, but I’m a teacher, so I have to say it.”

She then explains to me in vivid and graphic detail exactly how the chemicals from the cleaning spray I’m using will enter into my body and eventually settle in my liver, leading to my death. I laugh awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

Customer: “I’m sorry. I’m an English teacher and my sister is a science teacher. She learns about this stuff and tells me about it. I’m sorry.”

She then carries on explaining how even dusting your house will destroy your liver, and how we should basically be wearing full hazmat suits with face coverings and goggles whenever we do any sort of cleaning, all backed up with detailed scientific fact. Finally, she pays and goes to leave.

Customers: “Bye. Thanks for your help. Sorry about all that.”

I continued cleaning each machine after she left, now with the knowledge that every squirt of the bottle was dragging me closer to the bleak inevitability of an early death. Thanks, lady.

The university I teach at isn’t particularly strict on attendance; it’s up to the teacher to control how they want attendance to affect their class. This one professor decided to be incredibly strict about it and the students hated him for it.

He would physically lock the door once five minutes passed, and would not open it again for any reason whatsoever. If you were five minutes late, you lost that lesson. Some students started sitting on the hallway and talking notes while looking through the glass doors when that was an option.

One day I arrived to teach my lesson and all the students are acting strange.

Me: “What’s so funny? Why is everyone so giggly and happy?”

Student #1: “[Professor] arrived five minutes late to his class today. We locked him out of the classroom.”

Student #2: “For an entire hour.”

I suspect he was too embarrassed to ask for a key and in the process having to admit why he was locked out.

He never locked the doors again.

This story is part of our Best Of October 2020 roundup!

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I work in a research lab where we use zebrafish to study genetics. When I joined, the first thing the professor told me was not to name the fish or get attached to them under any circumstances. We don’t kill the fish for our work; we just take tissue samples by clipping a small piece of a fin or the tip of their tail, which will grow back. If a fish gets sick or injured, though, we have to put it down quickly, to avoid it injuring or infecting the rest of the tank, or dying unnoticed and contaminating the water.

As such, when I notice that one of the young male fish we’re raising to restock our tanks is visibly deformed, I know he’s probably going to have to go, so I catch him and put him in a separate container.

Professor: “Any updates?”

Me: “Got some good results on the last sample set I’d like you to look over, and I pulled a fish with a birth defect out of the juvenile tank. I’m afraid we’re probably going to have to put him down.”

Professor: “Let me see.”

He takes the container and studies the deformed fish. The fish looks like someone took his head and his tail and twisted in opposite directions, but he’s still swimming, albeit slowly, and not showing any of the usual signs of distress or injury.

Professor: “Awww, but he’s so cute! Do we really have to put him down?”

Me: “Well, we can’t use him for research, and you’re the one who told me that any injured or sick fish have to go.”

Professor: “Yeah, I know, but he’s swimming pretty well, and I don’t want to put him down unless he’s in distress. I’m going to name him Austin. Keep Austin weird!”

Me: “What should I do with him, then? I don’t want to put him back in with our research fish.”

Professor: “How about putting him in the retirement tank with our older fish? They move pretty slowly anyway, so Austin will be able to keep up, and none of them are used for research anymore.”

Me: “Works for me. Austin gets an early retirement.”

I couldn’t be the one to make the decision, but if the professor okayed it, I was more than happy to move the fish to the retirement tank. Austin can’t move very fast, but he’s still around and has become our unofficial lab mascot. And at least half of our fish have been named.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

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I am a terrible student and a huge baseball fan growing up.

In sixth grade I have an English teacher who knows I’m not dumb, just hard to motivate. She privately offers me an extra credit assignment.

Teacher: “All you have to do is write a two-page essay on any topic you like at all, explaining why you like it so much.”

I straight-up turn down her offer, being content with my C grade. So, she flips it around on me and speaks to another student in the class.

Teacher: *Loudly* “Since you’re the biggest Red Sox fan in the class, you should write a two-page essay about the Red Sox and present it to the class.”

I practically jump out of my seat.

Me: “I am a way bigger Red Sox fan than he is and I should be the one writing that essay!”

 She let us both write one. She was a really good teacher.

Related:
Time To Assay The Essay Situation, Part 9
Time To Assay The Essay Situation, Part 8
Time To Assay The Essay Situation, Part 7
Time To Assay The Essay Situation, Part 6
Time To Assay The Essay Situation, Part 5

This story is part of our Best Of September 2020 roundup!

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